Read Online Where Are You Now? by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online Page B

protectiveness. From everything Elliott had ever said about the missing young man, Aaron knew that he looked on Mack as a surrogate son. The fact that Aaron’s mother, Esther, had taught Mack in one of her drama classes at Columbia only strengthened the bond between them.
    Then, a year later, when Aaron’s mother was murdered during what was determined to be a random mugging, the bond had tightened further still. Now, it was generally accepted in the company that Aaron Klein was the chosen successor of Elliott Wallace.
    Aaron had been away visiting clients in Chicago on Monday and Tuesday. Late Wednesday morning he received a call from his boss. “Aaron, do you have plans for lunch?”
    â€œNone that I can’t change,” Aaron said promptly.
    â€œThen please meet me at twelve thirty in the dining room.”
    I wonder what’s up, Aaron asked himself as he replaced the receiver. Elliott isn’t usually this last-minute about lunch. At 12:15 he got up from his desk, went into his private bathroom, ran a comb through his sparse head of hair, and straightened his tie. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, he thought sardonically, who’s the baldest of us all? Thirty-seven years old, in good shape, not bad-looking, but at the rate I’m going, by the time I’m fifty I’ll be lucky if I have six hairs left on my head. He sighed and put away the comb.
    Jenny tells me that’s part of the reason I’ve done sowell, he told himself. She says I look ten years older than I am. Thanks, honey.
    Friendly as they had become, Aaron was always aware that to the blue-blooded Elliott Wallace, the fact that he, his chosen successor, was the grandson of immigrants had to be disappointing. That thought was in his mind as he walked toward the dining room. The kid from Staten Island approaches the privileged descendant of one of the first settlers of New Amsterdam, he thought. Never mind that the immigrants’ grandson graduated from Yale in the top ten percent of his class and has a master’s degree from Wharton; it still isn’t the same as having classy ancestors. I wonder if I’ll hear the “cousin Franklin” story again.
    Aaron acknowledged that he both hated and was bored by Elliott’s oft-repeated anecdote of FDR’s having invited a Republican woman to host an event at Hyde Park when his wife, Eleanor, was away. When he was chided by the Democratic chairman, an astonished FDR replied, “But of course I asked her to be my hostess. She is the only woman in Hyde Park who is my social equal.”
    â€œThat was my father’s favorite story about his cousin Franklin,” Elliott would chuckle.
    As he reached the table and a waiter pulled out a chair for him, Aaron immediately sensed that anecdotes about his revered relatives were the last thing on Elliott’s mind today. He looked thoughtful and concerned—in fact, preoccupied.
    â€œAaron, good to see you. Let’s order quickly. I have a couple of meetings. I assume you’ll have your usual?”
    â€œCobb salad, no dressing, and iced tea, Mr. Klein?” the waiter asked, smiling.
    â€œYou’ve got it.” Aaron did not mind letting his boss think that his salad luncheon was a sign of self-discipline. The fact was that his wife, Jenny, loved to cook, and even her most casual dinners far surpassed the sterile menu of the executive dining room.
    Elliott ordered, and when the waiter was out of earshot he got right to the point: “We heard from Mack on Sunday,” he said.
    â€œThe usual Mother’s Day call?” Aaron asked. “I was wondering if he’d stick to form and phone this year.”
    â€œHe did that, and more.”
    Aaron did not take his eyes off Elliott Wallace’s face as he listened to the account of the written communication from Mack.
    â€œI’ve advised Olivia to respect Mack’s wishes,” Elliott said. “But oddly enough, she seems